Page 29 of Walkoff Wedding

That was stupid. I should’ve said something other than good morning, like, you know… hi again, thanks for offering to marry me to save my family’s bakery, almost beating up my crazy “fiancé,” and letting me spend the night in your bed while you slept on your couch.

That might have covered it, but good morning?

For goodness’ sake, Addie. Could you have thought of anything more lame to lead with?

I wince, pushing my hair behind my ear in an attempt to calm the nerves swirling in my stomach. At this rate, I’m going to have to braid my hair just so I’ll stop nervously fidgeting with it.

He turns toward me, a lazy grin on his face. His eyes are still heavy-lidded from sleep, giving him what I’m convinced is the best I woke up like this face. “Good morning. I hope you like eggs because I cooked way too fucking many. And I also cooked, um… bacon, toast, hash browns, and… waffles?” He gestures to the kitchen table, which is covered in enough food to feed a family of seven.

My eyes widen, and I bring my hand to my mouth to cover the giggle that’s about to burst past my lips.

“Yeaaaaah, I might have overdone it a bit, but I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured you’d be starving after last night.”

It’s actually really… sweet of him to do that, and I reply, “Thank you. Anything is fine with me. I love all of it.”

His grin widens into a smile as he nods and turns back to the stove.

I walk over to the kitchen table and pull out a chair while he finishes cooking the eggs. As much as I try not to, I can’t help but stare at him as he cooks.

My cheeks are probably as red as the jar of strawberry jelly sitting in front of me, but I’m praying that he’ll be too focused on eating to notice.

This is the first time I’ve ever slept over with a guy before. Even if we did sleep in separate rooms.

That fact is just now hitting me, and combined with the fact that he’s shirtless and has more abs than I think I’ve ever seen in my life, I’m a bit… flustered.

“Addie?”

My gaze whips to him, and I mumble, “Sorry, did you, uh, say something?”

“I was asking if you wanted orange juice?” He laughs, the sound still raspy with sleep.

I realize then that he’s holding a container of pulp-free orange juice. The bottle actually looks small compared to the size of his hand, which makes me…

“Yes. Yes, please,” I say in a rush before ducking my head and hiding the fire on my cheeks.

I do this thing when I blush—my entire body turns red with it, and it’s almost as embarrassing as the last twenty-four hours of my life have been.

Truthfully, I’m not sure why this morning I’m ten times more nervous than I was last night, but it’s probably because my brain is less occupied by what happened with Dixon and instead focused on the way-too-attractive man in front of me who literally proposed I marry him.

That’s definitely it.

Avoiding his eyes, I put a little of everything on my plate and only glance up when he pours the orange juice into my glass and sits down beside me.

His hair is sticking in a hundred different directions from sleep, and I focus my eyes there instead of the sculpted muscles on his chest.

“How’d you sleep?” Grant asks casually, spreading butter on his toast.

God, I’m literally watching Jockboy spread butter on his toast, and I feel like I’m living on another planet. Maybe an alternate universe.

“Uh, I slept fine,” I say, clearing my throat. “How did you… sleep?”

“Well, my couch is not meant for tall people because my knees hung off all night, so I think I might need to see the chiropractor.” He winces when he twists in his chair. “Good thing I know a few.”

When he winks, my stomach does a somersault.

“God, I’m sorry, I should have taken the couch. I didn’t even think about the fact that you’re a giant.”

He laughs before shoving his toast into his mouth and shakes his head vehemently. “Nah, I’m a gentleman, ArtGirl. Like I’d ever let you sleep on the couch. Plus, it was worth it. I’m really glad that we got to talk last night.”

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